


Shadowmarks

by phoenixquest



Series: Ryndoril and Ondolemar [8]
Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Body Paint, M/M, Sex, Slash, Yaoi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-29
Updated: 2014-06-29
Packaged: 2018-02-06 18:47:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1868436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phoenixquest/pseuds/phoenixquest
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A thief tries to get one over on Ondolemar, but his bed partner - Ryn - recognizes the thief. Ryndoril helps Ondolemar come to terms with the fact that his lover is in the Thieves Guild by showing him the Shadowmarks...in a very creative way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shadowmarks

Ondolemar awoke suddenly, unsure what had caused it but on high alert all the same. It was dark; clearly it was the middle of the night. He kept his eyes shut, listening hard, before feeling something warm move next to him. He jumped at first, but quickly remembered it was only Ryndoril. The Bosmer, fast asleep beside him, had shifted slightly. He smiled a little to himself, reaching up to place a hand on the wood elf’s arm, simply wanting to touch him.

Ryndoril had decided he wanted a bit of a break after the ‘adventure’ Sanguine had sent him on, and indeed the Bosmer had been in Markarth for the last week and a half. Though Ondolemar spent the night at the Bosmer’s house as often as he could, he had no interest in making his guards or anyone else suspicious, so most nights Ryndoril sneaked into Ondolemar’s own rooms while no one was watching. Neither was willing to sleep apart from the other if they could help it; it was much more pleasant to sleep in one another’s arms.

A sound caught Ondolemar’s ear then, making him tense up. It seemed Ryndoril hadn’t heard anything; the Bosmer was still breathing deeply as he did in sleep. Ondolemar listened harder and could make out the softest fall of footsteps. They were clearly approaching the bed.

Ondolemar slowly moved, knowing the intruder would not be able to see him in the darkness, and pulled the hidden dagger out from beneath his pillow. Whatever fool had chosen to sneak into the place tonight was going to severely regret it; he would not allow anything to happen to himself, and most definitely not to Ryndoril.

His sensitive ears were able to tell when the intruder was near. Quick as a flash, his hand had flicked out, grabbing a leather-clad arm.

“Dammit,” an angry voice hissed. Ondolemar was out of bed and on his feet at once; he found himself grateful that he’d worn trousers to bed that night. He let go of the intruder’s arm, casting a magelight above them in order to see, and found a man standing before him fully clad in leather armor, bandoliers everywhere and a hood obscuring his face.

“Well, well, what have we here?” Ondolemar sneered. “A thief, is it?”

“Let’s…ah…forget this whole thing ever happened, shall we? I’ll go, leave your things, and all’s well,” a male voice said mildly.

“I think not,” Ondolemar growled, angry. “Do you have any idea who I am, thief?” The man under the hood seemed to consider for a moment.

“Well, I guess you’re important, living in the Keep,” the thief ventured. Ondolemar heard Ryndoril groan behind him, waking up.

“Ondolemar?” Ryndoril muttered sleepily. “What’s – wait. Rune?!”

“Ryndoril?” the hood asked, amazed. Ondolemar jerked his head around to look at the Bosmer, who was clearly startled and still half asleep.

“Rune, what in Oblivion are you doing here?” Ryndoril asked, his voice thick with sleep.

“Are you trying to tell me you _know_ this thief?” Ondolemar demanded, lowering his dagger.

“Yeah,” Ryndoril said, shaking his head. “Rune, the Thalmor Commander? Have you lost your mind?”

“I didn’t know you were…close,” Rune muttered, pulling his hood lower over his face. 

“Even if we weren’t, what were you thinking? He’d kill you,” Ryndoril said, getting to his feet as well and standing next to Ondolemar. Ondolemar was simply gazing at him with his mouth hanging open.

“Vex sent me,” Rune said, sounding slightly embarrassed and very annoyed. “She said a client was asking for some enchanted amulet the Thalmor had on him.”

“You were attempting to take my amulet?” Ondolemar demanded angrily, lifting his hand to the pendant. It had been enchanted by his mother in order to enhance his magical abilities; he’d had it since he was young, and longer than this idiot man in front of him had been alive!

“These rooms are under my protection,” Ryndoril spoke up firmly, defensive of the Altmer.

“Then maybe you should’ve put a Shadowmark up,” Rune countered. “How the hell was I to know you were sleeping with a Thalmor?”

“It’s none of your business,” Ryndoril countered, his voice harsher than Ondolemar had ever heard it. He was utterly confused; the two clearly knew each other, but it didn’t seem to be a happy relationship. “But you’re right. I’ll put a Shadowmark on the door tomorrow. For now, spread the word, alright?”

“Fine,” Rune said sullenly. “But you better come explain it to Vex, then.”

“I will,” Ryndoril sighed. “Did you take anything else?”

“No, I just wanted the amulet, I didn’t want to risk it,” Rune said.

“Then I suggest you get out of here,” Ryndoril advised. “Quickly.”

“Excuse me!” Ondolemar snapped. “You come in here, attempt to steal from me, and you expect me to simply let you walk away? If anyone deserves that blasted Cidhna Mine, it’s you!”

“Ondolemar,” Ryndoril said quietly, taking the Altmer’s arm. “Let him go. I’ll make sure this never happens again.”

“And you’re okay with him trying to take my things?” Ondolemar demanded, rounding on Ryndoril.

“Of course I’m not,” Ryndoril said, staring at the Altmer. Ondolemar could see something like uncertainty in the Bosmer’s gaze. “But he’s in the Thieves Guild. If you have him arrested, he’ll escape.”

“No one escapes that mine,” Ondolemar spat. “And I’ve half a mind to deal with you myself,” he added to the thief before him.

“Let him go,” Ryndoril said, staring at the thief as well now. Ondolemar thought the Bosmer looked a little sad now. “I promise you, it won’t happen again.”

“How do you know?” Ondolemar demanded, his hand still clutching his amulet. “And how do you know he’s in the Thieves Guild anyway?”

“Because I’m the Guild’s second in command,” Ryndoril said heavily, sighing. Ondolemar gaped at him. “I’m sorry,” Ryndoril apologized, looking at the Altmer pleadingly. “I’ll explain everything, I promise. Just…let him go.” Ondolemar growled, enraged.

“If you ever come near my quarters again, I will slit your throat myself,” Ondolemar snarled at the man before him. “Get out of here.”

“Ryndoril – “

“He told you to get out,” Ryndoril said harshly. “I know what you’re thinking, and you’re right. But it’s none of your damn business; I told you before we were through. Get out of here.”

“Fine,” Rune snapped, heading back out the door. Ryndoril followed, shutting and locking the door behind him. He took a deep breath, steeling himself, before turning back to Ondolemar.

“You’re a thief,” Ondolemar said accusingly. “A thief, Ryndoril.”

“Yes,” Ryndoril agreed. “Not so much anymore. But I was. And yes, I am one of the leaders of the Thieves Guild here in Skyrim.”

“I can’t believe you,” Ondolemar said, still clutching his amulet as though Ryndoril was threatening to take it, too. “Have you been stealing from me?”

“Never,” Ryndoril said at once, walking closer to Ondolemar. The magelight flickered out just then, causing Ryndoril to lose track of his footing and stumble. Ondolemar caught him, steadying him reflexively, and Ryndoril grasped the Altmer’s arms, looking toward where he knew his face would be. “I swear, love. I’ve never taken so much as a septim from you. And I never would.”

Ondolemar didn’t reply for a moment. He was furious; he felt he’d been lied to, been led astray, but then again – it wasn’t as though it had ever come up. But to know Ryndoril – this Bosmer he’d become so fond of, he shared his bed with – was of the same sort as the thief who’d just tried to rob him!

“Want to give us a bit of light again?” Ryndoril ventured, still not letting go of Ondolemar’s arms. Ondolemar cast a magelight without thinking, bathing them in light once more. He saw the Bosmer looked rather upset, and that more than anything else softened his heart.

“Ryn,” Ondolemar murmured, staring at the Bosmer, one hand back on his amulet while the other still clutched the dagger. Ryndoril realized he was rather lucky he hadn’t just been stabbed when he fell. “How…how could you?”

“It never came up,” Ryndoril said apologetically. “I never thought it would be an issue. Of course I should’ve put a Shadowmark by your door; it never even occurred to me.”

“What is a Shadowmark?” Ondolemar asked, distracted for the moment.

“A symbol,” Ryndoril explained. “They’re information for the Guild. Shows where a Guild safe house is, or an escape route, or where someone is under the protection of the Guild. Off limits to rob.” He yawned then, unable to stop himself; he was still quite tired.

“I see,” Ondolemar said quietly, considering this.

“I never thought to ask before,” Ryndoril commented, his eyes on the hand clutching Ondolemar’s amulet. “What’s so special about that amulet?”

“My mother gave it to me,” Ondolemar said defensively. “It is enchanted to enhance my magic. Why did your little friend want it?”

“For a client, it seems,” Ryndoril sighed. “Someone paid the Guild to get it off you. I wouldn’t have thought any of them would be crazy enough to try and steal from a Thalmor, but clearly I was wrong.”

“Well, who paid your Guild, then?” Ondolemar demanded. Ryndoril tried, and failed, to stifle another yawn.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “But I swear I’ll do my best to find out.”

“A thief,” Ondolemar murmured, shaking his head. “A thief, Ryndoril.”

“The Guild was like my family for a while,” Ryndoril explained quietly. “It wasn’t so much about the stealing as the fact that I belonged somewhere. They accepted me, and I liked that. Then…I sort of helped them root out a traitor, and helped save the Guild. And so they made me their Second.” Ondolemar sighed, sinking back down onto the bed. He set his dagger down.

“And you’ve never stolen anything from me?” he asked the Bosmer.

“Never,” Ryndoril said solemnly, and to Ondolemar’s surprise, the wood elf sank to his knees in front of him. “And I never will. You have my word.” The Bosmer was looking up at Ondolemar so hopefully, so desperately; he _needed_ Ondolemar to forgive him, to be okay with it.

“And I will not be getting any future visits from any little _friends_ of yours?”

“I promise. I’ll put the Shadowmark on your door first thing tomorrow.” Ondolemar let out a breath, finally letting go of his amulet in favor of stroking the Bosmer’s hair. A small smile came to Ryndoril’s lips as he closed his eyes.

“You drive me to madness, Ryn,” Ondolemar murmured, unable to stay angry at the repentant Bosmer before him.

“Does that mean you forgive me?” Ryndoril asked, his eyes opening again, looking hopeful. Ondolemar rolled his eyes, letting out a short laugh.

“I suppose I must,” Ondolemar confessed, feeling quite tired again himself. He wasn’t used to waking up in the middle of the night. “Get back in bed.”

“You sure?” Ryndoril asked anxiously. “I know you’re not…well…happy with -”

“Just come here,” Ondolemar smirked, shaking his head and pulling the Bosmer into bed with him. Ryndoril laughed tiredly, and Ondolemar loved the sound. Auri-El, but how had he fallen so hard for this mer? He never should have been so forgiving, but he couldn’t fathom _not_ forgiving the Bosmer. After all, what did it matter, really, what he used to do? He wasn’t going to steal from Ondolemar.

“Thanks,” Ryndoril said softly. “I’m sorry about Rune. He…” Ryndoril trailed off uncomfortably, and Ondolemar tensed again. The magelight went out again, but neither cared to remedy the problem. Tucked into the Altmer’s arms as Ryndoril was, it didn’t matter if he could see the mer or not.

“Who was he?” Ondolemar asked quietly. “There was an obvious tension between you.”

“Yeah,” Ryndoril mumbled, moving in closer to the Altmer. “He…we used to…well…”

“Ah,” Ondolemar said quietly. They’d been lovers. Well, that explained a lot. “He was rather willing to listen to you, given that.”

“I’m still his superior,” Ryndoril said. “It just…didn’t end that well.”

“What happened?” Ondolemar asked delicately. Ryndoril hesitated; it wasn’t something he really wanted to discuss, but he couldn’t keep it from the Altmer. And in any case, he knew, Ondolemar would be the _last_ one to ridicule him.

“He…got involved with someone else,” Ryndoril answered softly. “I didn’t know. And I walked in on him with her…” His chest tightened. He hadn’t exactly been in love with Rune, but he’d been closer to the man than anyone else before. It had still felt like a knife in the back when he walked in on Rune with Sapphire that day.

“I’m sorry, Ryn,” Ondolemar murmured, stroking the Bosmer’s hair comfortingly. The pain was evident in the wood elf’s voice; it made Ondolemar hurt for him, even as he felt a surge of jealousy. “If he did that…why did he seem so angry with you just now?” Surely it was _Ryndoril’s_ right to be angry.

“I was the one who ended it,” Ryndoril said quietly. “Rune…didn’t see the problem. He was into both men and women, see, so he saw no harm in having one of each. I didn’t…care for the idea.”

“I see,” Ondolemar said. “And the woman? What did she think?”

“She was fine with it,” Ryndoril sighed. “She had known all along. In fact…just about everyone had. Except me.”

“That’s terrible,” Ondolemar murmured, continuing to stroke Ryndoril’s hair. “Was…was he the only other you’ve been with?” He knew it wasn’t right to ask the question, it was the wrong moment, it was all wrong, but he couldn’t help himself.

“In…that way,” Ryndoril murmured, feeling upset all over again. “He was the first I allowed to take me like…like you did. There were others, but never like that.” He was grateful for the Altmer’s kind comfort while he felt so hurt.

Ondolemar swallowed hard, emotion welling up in him. After having his heart treated so callously before, the Bosmer had allowed him – and _only_ him – to perform such an intimate act. The Bosmer clearly trusted him completely to allow such a thing, and yet Ondolemar was getting annoyed over what Ryndoril had done in his past? How ridiculous could he be?

“Then I appreciate you giving yourself to me that way,” Ondolemar said softly, squeezing the Bosmer gently.

“It could only ever be you,” Ryndoril murmured. He pressed his lips to the Altmer’s chest. “Thank you for forgiving me, Ondolemar. For letting me stay.” Ondolemar managed a small smile in the darkness.

“I won’t let you run off just for something like that,” Ondolemar answered, and felt Ryndoril’s quiet laugh. “In any case, it explains why you’re so adept at getting past my guards all the time.”

“There’s a little more to that than just being a thief,” Ryndoril said. “But…can we just sleep now? I’ll tell you everything tomorrow.”

“Alright,” Ondolemar agreed, pressing a gentle kiss to the Bosmer’s forehead. “Good night, Ryn.”

“Oh, and thank you,” Ryndoril mumbled, sleep trying to overcome him already.

“What for?” Ondolemar asked.

“The dagger,” Ryndoril smiled, feeling warm inside at the Altmer’s actions. “You were obviously trying to protect me. I appreciate it.”

“Of course I would, Ryndoril,” Ondolemar said, nonplussed. “Why on Nirn wouldn’t I?”

“I appreciate it all the same,” Ryndoril smiled, moving further into the Altmer’s arms and sighing, pleased. “Good night.”

“I will always protect you,” Ondolemar whispered a few moments later; he wasn’t sure if Ryndoril was still awake to hear him or not, but the promise stood just the same.

*****

Ryndoril came back to the keep the following afternoon, having procured the paint he would use to make the ‘protected’ Shadowmark on the door to Ondolemar’s rooms. The Thalmor Commander was in court with the Jarl at the time, but Ryndoril set to his task anyway. He carefully used the horsehair brush to paint a skinny diamond shape with two circles in the middle of it right next to Ondolemar’s door – a warning to any would-be thieves that there would be trouble if they were to steal anything here.

“Interesting,” a cool voice remarked as he was about halfway through. He jumped a little at the unexpected interruption and turned to find one of Ondolemar’s guards staring at it. “Bit unlike typical Altmer décor, but I presume the Commander had his reasons.” The guard sounded far less than impressed.

“It’s a way to keep thieves out,” Ryndoril shrugged, returning to his task. “It tells them they’re not allowed to steal here.”

“Well, how fortunate he has a _thief_ for a friend, then,” the guard said dryly. “You do understand he has guards for a reason. We are more than capable than dealing with such riff-raff.”

“Oh, are you?” Ryndoril said, his tone just as cold. He wasn’t sure why the guards both disliked him so much; he’d never done anything to them. “I suppose you were well on your way to action when a thief ended up in the Commander’s room last night, not a foot from his bed from what he told me.” 

“And so you expect us never to sleep?” the guard replied, arching an eyebrow.

“Of course not,” Ryndoril said. “Which is why I am putting the mark here. I was asked to do something, and now I’m doing it – just as the Commander wants.” He didn’t say aloud that the guard should start doing the same, but he got the feeling the guard knew he meant it anyway. The guard’s eyes narrowed at him, but then they were interrupted by Ondolemar himself.

“Is there a problem, Rolain?” Ondolemar asked, striding to the door. He looked over the mark Ryndoril had just finished.

“None whatsoever,” Rolain said, a slight venom in his voice.

“Good,” Ondolemar said at once. “Then you will have no problem setting out with Cyndil for the Forsworn camp down by the Karth river canyon.”

“Forsworn?” Rolain raised his eyebrows. “Why would _we_ be dealing with that, my lord?”

“Because the Jarl has gotten word that the Forsworn camp is hiding a band of Talos worshippers,” Ondolemar said, sounding rather satisfied. “Since I am ordered to remain here by the Ambassador, it falls to you and Cyndil to scout the situation and report back to me.”

“Yes, my lord,” Rolain said, sounding a bit excited. They so rarely got to leave the city. “We shall leave immediately.”

“See that you do,” Ondolemar nodded, and Rolain walked away.

“Nice work,” Ryndoril grinned at the Altmer once the other elf had gone.

“What?” Ondolemar asked, smirking. “It was the Jarl’s tip, and the orders I am meant to give.”

“And getting them out of our hair for a night is just a bonus,” Ryndoril teased.

“Indeed,” Ondolemar agreed. “So. That’s the symbol for being under the protection of the Guild, is it?” He eyed the mark Ryndoril had painted on his door critically. “You know, it’s hard to tell it’s even there.”

“That’s the idea,” Ryndoril said. “It’s our way of communicating to each other, but we don’t need anyone else knowing what it means. We know to look for it.”

“Then I suppose I shall trust your judgment,” Ondolemar said. “Are there others?”

“Yeah, nine of them,” Ryndoril said, touching up a bit of the paint on the door. He turned to grin at Ondolemar. “Want me to show you?”

“Perhaps you can write them down, so as not to overly decorate my door?” Ondolemar smirked. Ryndoril laughed.

“I think I can handle that. Was that all your meeting with the Jarl was about?” he asked as they walked inside the room, Ondolemar shutting the door behind him.

“Yes,” Ondolemar replied, kicking off his boots and tugging his gloves off. “One of his men heard about it; more than likely, it’s simply a rumor and nothing more,” he added. “Those barbarians don’t take to any who aren’t their own kind, least of all Nords – they couldn’t care less about Talos worship. However…it’s my job to have it fully investigated.”

“Such a hard worker,” Ryndoril teased, kicking off his own shoes and setting the small bowl of paint and the brush down on the night table by the bed before sitting down.

“I promise you, I wish I were going with them,” Ondolemar sighed, joining Ryndoril on the bed. “Not that I’m averse to spending the afternoon with you,” he added with a small smile. Ryndoril grinned.

“But you prefer a bit of excitement now and then,” Ryndoril nodded. “I understand. Why _don’t_ you go with them? You’re the Commander, after all – surely you should go along on such a mission.”

“I regret to say that our dear Ambassador does not agree with you,” Ondolemar informed him, frowning. “She sees no reason I should be out of the city. I know it’s only so that she can arrive and torment me whenever she feels like it,” he added with a grimace. “But there is little to be done about it. I do as she says.”

“Maybe it’ll change one day,” Ryndoril said hopefully.

“Perhaps,” Ondolemar said with a fond smile at the Bosmer. “In any case, here we are, quite without my guards hovering around us. I believe you told me you would explain everything to me, did you not?”

“I did,” Ryndoril nodded. Ondolemar had settled against the wall, and Ryndoril moved over so he was right next to the Altmer, picking up the other elf’s arm and putting it around himself. Ondolemar snorted in amusement.

“Comfortable?” he asked sarcastically.

“Very,” Ryndoril grinned. “Okay. Well, I joined the Guild a couple years ago, after getting caught trying to pick the pocket of the Guild second,” he started. “Said I was good, and if he hadn’t been in the business so long, I probably would have had him.” He laughed at the memory; he’d been sure Brynjolf was going to turn him in. “But I joined up, did a few special jobs for them, got to know the rest of them. They were all pretty great, really – even giving me tips and showing me new tricks and everything.”

Ondolemar listened patiently, trying not to interrupt with cutting remarks; he didn’t think much of the idea of Ryndoril learning to steal more efficiently, but he _had_ asked.

“I got close with a bunch of them…then I went on this mission where the Guild master – who turned out to be the traitor – tried to straight-up murder me.”

“Murder you?” Ondolemar interrupted, anxiety consuming him at the simple thought of such a thing.

“Yeah,” Ryndoril said with a half-smile. “Would have done, if it weren’t for the woman we _thought_ was the traitor, Karliah.”

“I think you better back up,” Ondolemar said, rather confused.

“Fair enough,” Ryndoril nodded. “Well, we had already known the Guild was having some seriously bad luck. Part of what they had me doing was investigating it, and I ended up turning up information that this Dunmer called Karliah was behind it all. Word was that she’d killed the last Guild master, and now she had her sights set on Mercer. So Mercer – the Guild master – wanted to set out after her, and he insisted I come with him.”

“Why you?” Ondolemar asked. “Why not someone who’d been with the Guild longer?” It seemed awfully silly to ask a rookie to go along on such a dangerous mission.

“Well, he said it was only fair I get to go along, because I was the one who’d uncovered Karliah’s plans and everything,” Ryndoril said, rolling his eyes. “More like he didn’t want the rest of them knowing the truth.”

“So you went with him,” Ondolemar said. “And did you find this Karliah?”

“We did,” Ryndoril nodded. “She shot me with a poisoned arrow when we found her, paralyzed me, but I could hear them talking. I ended up gathering that Mercer had killed the last Guild master, not Karliah, and in fact Karliah had been in love with the other man. So she was trying to take down the Guild to take down Mercer himself. She didn’t want to fight him, so she took an invisibility potion and disappeared. Mercer got angry…and came over to me, where I was laying paralyzed.” He paused, remembering; he’d been so angry at the man, and desperate to be able to move just a little!

“What did he do?” Ondolemar asked quietly after a moment.

“Stabbed me,” Ryndoril murmured. “Right in the gut. He walked away, and I passed out.”

“Auri-El,” Ondolemar said softly, squeezing the Bosmer gently. “How did you survive?”

“Turned out Karliah had been watching,” Ryndoril explained. “She saw what he did, realized I could be of help to her, and saved my life with healing magic.”

“Incredible,” Ondolemar said. “You were very lucky.”

“I was,” Ryndoril agreed. “Anyway. She ended up with proof of what Mercer had done – which was stealing from the Guild for years – and we went back to the Guild together. That’s…ah…actually when Rune and I got…” he swallowed, not finishing his sentence.

“I see,” Ondolemar said calmly.

“Sorry,” Ryndoril said quickly, trying to force the memory away. “I know you don’t want to hear about –“

“Nonsense,” Ondolemar interrupted. “I want you tell me anything you wish to tell me.” He didn’t particularly want to hear all the graphic details about Ryndoril’s previous lovers, but if the mer felt like speaking of the relationship, he would listen to him.

“Right,” Ryndoril said quietly. “Well…everyone thought Karliah had killed me. Mercer had come back, see. And Rune…well, apparently he’d been interested in me for a bit, and that sort of prompted him to confess it.”

“Understandable,” Ondolemar admitted. It made sense that an emotional reaction would come of such a thing.

“Well, once the Guild believed us,” Ryndoril went on, “we ended up going after Mercer. He was planning a heist of a Dwemer ruin for the Eyes of the Falmer.”

“You’re joking,” Ondolemar said in a hushed voice. “Those actually exist? I was sure they were legend.”

“Oh, they definitely exist,” Ryndoril smirked. “I have one.”

“You _have_ – are you having me on, Ryndoril?” Ondolemar demanded. The Bosmer laughed.

“No, I’m not,” he assured the Altmer. “I’ll show you next time you’re at the house.”

“So this Mercer was unsuccessful?” Ondolemar asked.

“Well, he did get the gems,” Ryndoril admitted. “But then he tried to kill us all, and so I killed him instead. He’s currently lying at the bottom of a lake with the rest of Irkngthand.”

“Amazing,” Ondolemar said. “Absolutely amazing.”

“It gets better,” Ryndoril laughed. “See, the way Mercer really betrayed the Guild was that he pissed off Nocturnal.”

“The Daedric prince?” Ondolemar asked, and Ryndoril nodded.

“The same,” he affirmed. “See, he was an agent of Nocturnal – so was Karliah, and the old Guild master. But Mercer stole something from her…” Ryndoril trailed off. He had just realized he probably shouldn’t be telling Ondolemar about it all. Karliah had said they clearly weren’t so secret anymore, but he knew the Skeleton Key was still under wraps. Such a powerful weapon, and Ondolemar being a Thalmor…

“What was it?” Ondolemar prompted. “What else had he done?” Ryndoril shook himself; he trusted this Altmer beyond anything. He was being stupid assuming the knowledge would change anything. Of _course_ he could tell Ondolemar.

“He stole a powerful Daedric artifact from Nocturnal’s temple,” Ryndoril explained. “Dangerously powerful, in fact – “

“Well, obviously,” Ondolemar snorted. “The Daedra aren’t exactly benevolent.”

“No,” Ryndoril agreed. “Well, in any case, it belonged in her temple – and apparently, the very luck of the Guild was riding on it. So after I killed him, I took the…artifact…back to Nocturnal’s temple, became her agent myself, and restored glory to the Thieves Guild.”

“Impressive,” Ondolemar said, shaking his head. “And that you’ve dealt with two Daedric princes, no less. Bit of a shame you didn’t get anything from her like Sanguine’s staff, though,” he mused.

“Well, I got her armor,” Ryndoril ventured. “I don’t usually wear it anymore. But…it’s at the house, too.”

“Forged by Nocturnal?” Ondolemar asked, stunned. “Truly?”

“Yeah,” Ryndoril nodded. Then he grinned. “You can look at that, too, if you like.”

“I can?” Ondolemar asked, clearly excited. He had already been examining Sanguine’s staff for a week, but hadn’t finished studying it just yet.

“Of course you can,” Ryndoril laughed. “I’m sorry I didn’t mention it sooner.” Ondolemar looked thrilled. “Well, anyway, it’s because of Nocturnal that I can move through the shadows. As her agent, she gave me the ability to become almost completely invisible in the shadows.”

“Well, that would indeed explain a lot,” Ondolemar nodded. “That is…an amazing story, Ryn.”

“See? More than just stealing from poor, unsuspecting fools,” Ryndoril grinned.

“It seems so,” Ondolemar admitted. They were both quiet for a moment, Ondolemar’s hand absentmindedly rubbing Ryndoril’s arm. “So, these Shadowmarks,” Ondolemar finally asked.

“Oh, yeah,” Ryndoril said. He turned to look slyly up at the Altmer. “You want to see them all?”

“Yes,” Ondolemar said cautiously; he wasn’t sure what Ryndoril’s sly look was about, but knowing the Bosmer, it could be anything.

“Then I have an idea,” Ryndoril said mischievously. “Take off your robes.” Ondolemar stared at him.

“I beg your pardon?” Ondolemar said indignantly. “I don’t see how that’s relevant.”

“Trust me?” Ryndoril asked, his eyes begging the Altmer to do as he suggested. Ondolemar eyed him for a moment, but eventually relented. It wasn’t as though he _didn’t_ trust the elf.

“Alright,” Ondolemar sighed, shaking his head as he got to his feet, starting to unfasten his robes. “I don’t know what you’re thinking, Ryn, but it better not be anything terrible.”

“Would I do anything terrible to you?” Ryndoril grinned, thrilled the Altmer had agreed. 

“No, I suppose not,” Ondolemar conceded. He was sure the Bosmer would never. He noticed Ryndoril was watching with a bit of a hungry look in his eyes as Ondolemar undid his robes, and slowed down a little to tease the Bosmer. The eager smile that spread over Ryndoril’s face told Ondolemar the Bosmer knew exactly what he was doing.

“You are gorgeous,” Ryndoril murmured, staring at Ondolemar’s lean, toned body as he shrugged off the Thalmor robes. Ondolemar gave him a smug smile. “Well, come on, lay down,” Ryndoril invited, moving aside on the bed and making room for the Altmer. Ondolemar looked at him skeptically again, but did as he was bid, lying back on the bed bare-chested.

Ryndoril got off the bed, reaching for his small bowl of paint before sitting back down, turning so he faced Ondolemar. The Altmer was looking at him quizzically, but didn’t comment. Ryndoril swirled the brush in the paint, mixing it a bit once more.

“Well, as I told you, there are nine Shadowmarks,” Ryndoril said. “The one on your door designates an area under Guild protection. It’s a diamond,” he continued, and lifted the brush from the bowl, bringing it down to Ondolemar’s chest. The Altmer jumped at the cold touch.

“Ryn, what - ?” he asked, a little breathless. The sensation of the brush tickled slightly, and with the chill it gave him goosebumps.

“I’m showing you the Shadowmarks,” Ryndoril said quietly, painting the diamond over the right side of Ondolemar’s chest. “The diamond in this one has two circles in the middle,” he added, dipping his brush in the paint once more before continuing. Ondolemar couldn’t suppress a shudder.

“You’re _marking_ me,” Ondolemar said accusingly. Ryndoril smiled slightly.

“Maybe,” he agreed. “As you are protected by one of the Guild.” The loving caress in his tone melted the Altmer. He didn’t know what to say. “There. That one’s finished.” Ondolemar tilted his neck; he could see the Shadowmark, painted in a dark orange that contrasted just so with his skin. It actually looked quite nice, he had to admit.

“Is this how you plan to show me the others?” Ondolemar asked. “I’ve only so much skin.” Ryndoril grinned.

“Believe me,” Ryndoril said. “I’ll find enough.” He dipped his brush in the paint again.

“What’s that made of?” Ondolemar asked curiously. “Such an interesting color.”

“Dragon’s tongue,” Ryndoril answered. “It was just the right color to stand out enough against this Dwemer décor without being too obvious.”

“I see,” Ondolemar said, shivering again slightly when Ryndoril brought the brush down again, this time over the left side of his chest.

“Another,” Ryndoril continued, drawing a line Ondolemar couldn’t see before sharply turning it, “denotes a safe place for the Guild.” He brushed the last line of the triangle over Ondolemar’s left nipple, making the Altmer jump and gasp. He grinned.

“Safe,” Ondolemar murmured, his eyes fixed on Ryndoril’s face as the Bosmer finished the design with a circle.

“Like your heart,” Ryndoril said softly, closing the circle. “For me.”

“Of…of course,” Ondolemar whispered. The Bosmer’s romantic gesture was throwing him off, he had to admit; it overwhelmed him a little.

“Next is the mark that denotes the Guild itself,” Ryndoril said, pausing a moment to look into the Altmer’s eyes. “And no one outside the Guild knows of it. So I trust you not to use it to hurt the Guild.”

“Never,” Ondolemar swore solemnly. Whatever he thought of the Guild, whatever he thought of thieves, if he was being entrusted with something so personal to the Bosmer, he was going to keep it to himself. Ryndoril smiled.

“This one’s also a diamond,” he said, changing direction and taking Ondolemar’s hand. He held it still while he painted the Guild mark on the back of the Altmer’s hand. “It’s got a circle inside it.” Once he finished, he brought Ondolemar’s hand to his lips, kissing the mer’s fingers gently.

“And that’s the Guild symbol?” Ondolemar asked, his voice breathy. He was far less interested in the symbol the Bosmer had just drawn on him than he was in the Bosmer himself.

“Mmhmm,” Ryndoril breathed, seeming to be quite as affected as Ondolemar felt. He tore his eyes from the Altmer’s then, dipping his brush back into the paint. “We also have a symbol to denote a place we’ve found there to be decent loot inside,” he continued, trying to gather himself. He grinned, contemplating his next move, and placed the tip of the brush just below Ondolemar’s neck, right above his amulet.

“You’re doing that on purpose,” Ondolemar muttered. Ryndoril laughed.

“A bit,” he said. “But don’t worry. I’m only teasing. I’d never take anything from you, and especially not that.” He drew the circle, then continued with painting the square and interior lines inside it. “You said your mother gave it to you, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” Ondolemar said softly. He resisted the urge to reach his hand up to touch it protectively; he trusted Ryndoril, and knew the Bosmer wasn’t going to do anything with it. “She enchanted it when I was very young, and gave it specially to me to make my magic more powerful.”

“Did you learn about enchanting from her?” Ryndoril asked, gently placing the lines inside the square now.

“I did,” Ondolemar said, smiling a little as he remembered his mother. “She was very good at it.” Ryndoril smiled, too, pausing to admire his work. It was a bit intoxicating, sliding the paint over the Altmer’s bare skin like this; he didn’t exactly mind it turning into sex, but he wondered if perhaps they were getting a little ridiculous, going at it whenever they had a spare moment.

No, he thought wryly; it was a perfectly logical thing to do when your lover was an incredibly handsome Altmer.

“You know I can’t see that one now,” Ondolemar complained; it was just below his chin, he couldn’t get the angle right.

“Sorry,” Ryndoril laughed. “It’s a circle with a square inside, a bunch of lines through it.”

“Helpful,” Ondolemar said dryly. Ryndoril simply shook his head and returned his brush to the paint.

“The fifth one is what we use when we’ve found a place to be empty; nothing of value inside,” Ryndoril explained. “It’s the same as where we’ve found loot, but empty of the lines through the middle.”

“Ah,” Ondolemar nodded. “Makes sense.” Ryndoril proceeded to draw this one on Ondolemar’s other hand, once more kissing the Altmer’s fingers as he finished. Ondolemar could barely remember the feel of the brush in comparison to Ryndoril’s warm, soft lips.

“This one,” Ryndoril continued, starting to draw on the Altmer’s inner wrist now, “indicates danger; there’s someone alert to the Guild, or else a trap, inside. It’s meant to keep thieves away from the place, but some of the braver ones go for it anyway.” Ondolemar shuddered at the cold paint brushed across his wrist, looking a moment later to see a triangle with a line through it, a circle at its tip.

Ryndoril continued his painting, both elves getting more worked up as the brush softly stroked over Ondolemar’s skin, making the patterns to indicate a Guild fence on Ondolemar’s left shoulder and then an escape route on his right.

“And the ninth?” Ondolemar finally asked, almost desperate for the Bosmer’s fingers to replace the soft brush strokes.

“The ninth one,” Ryndoril said, his voice trembling with want now as he carefully contemplated the final mark, “indicates a Thieves Cache. Somewhere that a Guild member will find some useful materials stashed, or indicating something the thief might…want…” he trailed off, trying to control his breathing as he placed the tip of the brush on Ondolemar’s stomach. The Altmer jumped, too enraptured by the wanting tone in Ryndoril’s voice to speak at the moment. Ryndoril slowly, almost teasingly, finished his design, the tip of the diamond ending just above the waist of Ondolemar’s trousers. He could feel the Altmer twitching slightly every time he moved his brush; drawing the lines in this square was a lesson in control for sure.

“Something the thief might want,” Ondolemar breathed, his hands clenching into fists to stop himself grabbing the Bosmer and throwing him down onto the bed.

“Something the thief wants very much,” Ryndoril murmured, looking up into Ondolemar’s heated gaze.

“Then perhaps he ought to go after it,” Ondolemar whispered. An eager smile slowly spread over Ryndoril’s face. He wasted no time in setting the bowl of paint on the night table before straddling the Altmer and bending down, kissing him deeply. They both groaned into the kiss, each having been left waiting long enough, and Ondolemar stopped fighting his hands and let them embrace the Bosmer atop him.

“Gods, love,” Ryndoril murmured, pulling back just far enough to see Ondolemar’s face. The desire in the Altmer’s eyes made Ryndoril want him badly. Why couldn’t he get enough of this mer?

“Well, go on, then,” Ondolemar smirked, his fingers finding the Bosmer’s ear and rubbing over the tip. Ryndoril closed his eyes blissfully. Ryndoril could easily feel that they were both hard and quite ready for one another. Teasingly he slid his bulging trousers against Ondolemar’s, drawing a noise from the Altmer somewhere between a moan and a growl.

Ryndoril made himself pull away from the Altmer’s gentle caress of his ear, kissing his way down Ondolemar’s body and unfastening the leather trousers. Ondolemar was more than happy to help the Bosmer remove them, and soon lay bare before Ryndoril, cock swollen and protruding from the nest of golden hair at its base.

“Hmm,” Ryndoril contemplated, a grin coming over his face as he knelt before the Altmer, not touching him yet. “You know, I’m not sure what I’d enjoy more. I don’t know if I ought to touch you, or taste you, or simply – “

“Dammit, Ryndoril, just take me,” Ondolemar growled. He’d had enough of this teasing, and despite having been with Ryndoril several times over the past week and a half, he was still desperate as always for the Bosmer. Ryndoril laughed, bending over Ondolemar once more to kiss him softly.

“As you wish, Commander,” Ryndoril teased. He slid his trousers off, reaching for the bottle of oil they’d taken to keeping in the night table drawer before letting himself settle back down. He loved how desperate he could make the Altmer, and how easily. Seeing him lying there, decorated with the Shadowmarks Ryndoril had painted on him, made the Bosmer terribly eager to ‘just take him’. He placed one hand on Ondolemar’s thigh, supporting himself as he leaned over, kissing Ondolemar’s chest next to the ‘safe’ Shadowmark and peppering kisses down the mer’s torso.

 _Thieves cache, indeed_ , he smirked as he flicked his tongue next to that Shadowmark, letting his lips trail further down until he pressed them to the tip of Ondolemar’s length.

“Ohhh, Ryn,” Ondolemar groaned. As much as he loved feeling the Bosmer inside him, feeling that hot mouth around him was an amazing sensation.

“Thought you wanted me to just take you?” Ryndoril reminded him, flicking his tongue against the sensitive head.

“I – just – I don’t care,” Ondolemar moaned. “Please, just – ohhhhh,” he moaned, the sound drawn out as Ryndoril took the elf’s length into his mouth entirely. “Yes, Ryn…” Hearing Ondolemar’s impassioned moans never failed to make Ryndoril want him.

He slid his lips along the Altmer’s length a few times, enjoying the way Ondolemar writhed on the bed, before finally pulling back. He saw Ondolemar almost glaring at him for stopping and grinned.

“Just give me a minute,” he reassured the Altmer. “I’ll make it up to you.”

“You’d better,” Ondolemar muttered, watching as Ryndoril coated his fingers with the oil. He tensed, as usual, when Ryndoril pressed a finger to the puckered opening, but quickly relaxed. A week straight of this treatment and he was much more receptive to the elf’s attentions now.

“That’s it,” Ryndoril murmured, pushing a finger inside the Altmer. Ondolemar let out a small, strangled cry as Ryndoril found the lump of tissue inside, pressing on it and rubbing it firmly, his hands flailing on the bed as though desperate to grab something. Ryndoril reached for the hand closest to his free one, grasping it tightly as the Altmer squeezed back.

“Yes, Ryn, please,” Ondolemar begged. Ryndoril grinned, pulling his finger out and adding a second. “Fuck,” the Altmer hissed.

“Hmm, you must want it badly to already be foul-mouthed,” Ryndoril teased him. 

“I am going to set you on fire if you don’t stop it,” Ondolemar threatened, but Ryndoril pressed against the hard tissue inside him again, making him cry out. Ryndoril laughed.

“Will you, now?” Ryndoril asked.

“Gods,” Ondolemar whimpered as the Bosmer slid his fingers back and forth. 

While Ryndoril thoroughly enjoyed the fact that they’d slept together so often recently, one of the best perks in his opinion was that it no longer took so much to get Ondolemar ready for him. It wasn’t long at all before the Altmer was quite relaxed, and Ryndoril didn’t have to worry about hurting him. He squeezed Ondolemar’s fingers gently before pulling his hand away, reaching for the bottle of oil again.

“Ryn?” Ondolemar panted, staring at the Bosmer, who looked up from coating his length with the oil.

“What?” Ryndoril asked. “Something wrong?”

“No,” Ondolemar said, blushing a little. He’d been so confident in his question a moment before, but now that the Bosmer was no longer driving him mad with his touch, his hesitation had come back. “I just wanted…” he trailed off, unable to go on. Gods, he was ridiculous.

“What did you want?” Ryndoril asked kindly, placing his free hand on Ondolemar’s thigh. “Tell me, love. Anything.” The Bosmer’s gentle encouragement left him feeling able to ask again.

“Would you mind very much if I…rolled over?” Ondolemar asked. Ryndoril’s eyes widened in surprise. The Altmer wanted him to take him like _that_? He wanted to, of course, at least since Ondolemar had done it to him, but he had assumed the elf’s pride would never allow it.

“Of course not,” Ryndoril answered breathlessly. “Please, love. Go on.” Ondolemar looked relieved, and started to turn over, but Ryndoril squeezed his thigh, making him pause. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Ondolemar said decisively. “I want you to take me like that.” Just saying the words was nearly foreign to him; it wasn’t something he would have ever said with anyone else. But with Ryndoril, as always, it was easier than he expected.

“Then by all means,” Ryndoril said, his smile radiant. Ondolemar rolled over then, and the feeling that came over him as he took his place on all fours in front of Ryndoril was quite unexpected. How was this so different from giving himself to Ryndoril before? Why did it matter that the Bosmer was now behind him? Yet somehow it did; he felt quite vulnerable like this. Was this how Ryndoril had felt, too?

Ondolemar sighed, relaxing a little as Ryndoril’s hand came up to rub the Altmer’s back softly.

“Ready, love?” Ryndoril murmured, dying to get inside the Altmer but sensing the elf’s tension.

“Y-yes,” Ondolemar said, trembling slightly. Was it the anticipation? Surely he wasn’t _nervous_ , was he?

“It’s alright,” Ryndoril murmured, and Ondolemar felt the Bosmer’s length pressing up against him then. “Relax.” Ondolemar tried to obey, and he felt the Bosmer sliding inside of him a moment later.

All his anxiety left with that first thrust; this felt right. It was just as it always had been when Ryndoril would take him; why on Nirn would he have been so anxious over this?

“There you go,” Ryndoril breathed, hilting himself inside the Altmer and rubbing one hand over the elf’s back, the other supporting himself on Ondolemar’s hip. He’d felt the Altmer relax; he was clearly unused to such a position of submission. It meant a great deal to Ryndoril that he was allowing it anyway.

“Ryn,” Ondolemar whimpered, wriggling impatiently when the Bosmer was still for too long.

“Alright,” Ryndoril said in amusement, pulling back out of the Altmer. He slammed himself back in rather more harshly than usual, making them both cry out at the sensation. He could feel the Altmer’s muscle squeezing around him intermittently. “I’m still yours, you know,” Ryndoril managed between panting breaths as he found a rhythm of thrusting into the elf.

“And…” Ondolemar panted, hardly able to speak with the sensation of Ryndoril thrusting into him like this, “I…I am…yours!”

“Gods,” Ryndoril choked, his heart full to bursting from the declaration. He reached around the high elf then, grasping Ondolemar’s cock and stroking it firmly with each thrust.

“Ryn…Ryn…yes, _fuck_!” Ondolemar cried out, his hips jerking back and forth without restraint. This was nothing short of Divine, the Bosmer’s length hitting him just right with every thrust as the hand on his member stroked him with abandon.

Ryndoril knew he wasn’t going to last much longer, between the things Ondolemar had said and the way the Altmer always _felt_ around him. It took a good deal of concentration to last a long time with Ondolemar like this anyway, and this afternoon he was much more interested in them both getting their pleasure than taking their time. He wanted the Altmer to find his release first, but he wasn’t sure he was going to be able to achieve that today.

“Love…I’m so…so close…gods!” Ryndoril choked out, the fingernails of the hand not wrapped around Ondolemar digging into the Altmer’s hip.

“Please, Ryn,” Ondolemar managed. “Go on. Come…come for me.”

“Yes!” Ryndoril cried out, his release coming on hard from the encouraging words. “Ondolemar!” He spilled himself inside the Altmer, his hand stilling as he lost control of his body for a moment.

“Ryndoril,” Ondolemar whimpered. “Please… _please_ …”

“Sorry,” Ryndoril panted, collapsing slightly onto Ondolemar’s back but staying where he was, resuming the ministrations of his hand as he wrapped his free arm around the mer’s torso, holding him. “Go on love. Enjoy it.”

“Yes,” Ondolemar gasped. “Yes…nearly…there…” Ryndoril forced himself to stroke Ondolemar harder, though his muscles were on the verge of giving out. “Ahh! Ryn!” Ondolemar cried out finally, and Ryndoril felt the Altmer’s body tense beneath him a second before warmth spurted onto his hand, coating his fingers. He stroked the mer to completion, feeling Ondolemar start to fall after a few moments. He could do nothing to hold them both up and so he fell right next to the Altmer, both of them in a sweaty heap.

“Sorry,” Ryndoril said breathlessly, taking Ondolemar’s hand in his, intertwining their fingers. “Couldn’t…couldn’t help myself.”

“That’s alright,” Ondolemar murmured, his other hand coming up to brush Ryndoril’s hair from his face. “Gods. That was…amazing, Ryn.” Ryndoril smiled at the Altmer.

“Yes,” he agreed softly. “It was.” He moved over to kiss the elf softly, feeling the wet spot from Ondolemar’s release as he did so. He laughed softly as they pulled apart. “I ought to clean this up.”

“Right,” Ondolemar said with a tired smile, falling onto his back. He managed to stay awake long enough for Ryndoril to grab a discarded towel from Ondolemar’s morning bath and clean up the mess he’d made.

“Anyway,” Ryndoril said, his tone suddenly businesslike as he climbed into the bed with Ondolemar again, pulling the bedcovers up, “those are the Shadowmarks. I hope you paid attention.” Ondolemar laughed, pulling the Bosmer to him and kissing the top of his head.

“I don’t remember any of it,” Ondolemar informed him, holding him tightly. “You’ll have to show me again.” Ryndoril laughed, too.


End file.
